


By a thread

by TetrodotoxinB



Series: Whumptober 2020 [13]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Day 13, Existential Crisis, Mac has yet another, Oxygen mask, Whumptober 2020, field medicine, needle decompression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26988604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TetrodotoxinB/pseuds/TetrodotoxinB
Summary: Mac has to perform a medical procedure to save Jack in the field. He develops feelings about it.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947493
Comments: 18
Kudos: 33
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	By a thread

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [aravenwood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aravenwood/pseuds/aravenwood) for her extreme kindness in being willing to beta all of these whumptober fills! Especially so since she's also writing her own (amazing!) fics too! Please go check her out and give her some love!!

Mac’s not prepared for this. He fixes _things;_ he doesn’t fix people. But Jack’s hardly able to talk and Mac can feel Jack’s heart racing under his palm. Jack presses the decompression needle into Mac’s hand and walks his fingers down his chest, finding a point where he begins to tap. 

That’s where Mac’s going to have to stick Jack. To put off the inevitable, Mac tears Jack’s shirt open and fishes for an alcohol prep pad. Despite his reasonable ploys to delay, Mac also hurries because he knows that once Jack loses consciousness Mac loses his instructor for this particular procedure. 

Jack can’t talk and something about that makes it hard for Mac to talk, too. He looks up, making eye contact, silently asking, _Ready?_ Jack just nods, like he speaks any language Mac does. 

Mac takes a deep breath and pushes. Whatever expectation Mac had it was wrong. Pushing a needle into someone’s — _Jack’s_ — chest has dramatically less resistance than he anticipated and also a horrifying quality that Mac can’t quite quantify.

Once the hub is flat against Jack’s chest, Mac looks up and Jack’s eyes are pinched closed. He’s obviously in pain, and despite the needle looking more like a straw than a needle, Mac knows the decompression is probably the least of it. 

Even without leaning over, Mac can hear the _whoosh_ of air as the pressure in Jack’s chest begins to equalize. After the sound subsides, Mac withdraws the needle, leaving the catheter in place, and sits down on the ground next to Jack. 

Mac’s listening intently, hoping to hear the _whump whump whump_ of the medevac rotors before he hears the _tat tat tat_ of enemy fire. He nearly jumps out of his skin when Jack’s hand lands on his leg. Mac looks down and Jack smiles back up at him and wheezes, “Good job, hoss.”

The reality of what just happened hits Mac all at once. Jack was dying — suffocating — and now he’s not. He’s talking. And suddenly, despite his success in stabilizing Jack, life feels so ephemeral, fleeting, like it could slip through his fingers at any moment, where the only thing separating existence and decay is a tiny latex catheter. 

“Hey, I’m gonna be fine,” Jack rasps. 

Mac wipes the tears from his eyes and nods. “I know. Just worried was all.”

Jack nods weakly. “Yeah, but you done good. I’ll be fine.”

As if to prove Jack’s point, Mac hears their ride coming in from beyond the tree line. In less than five minutes, they’re both on board, medics crawling all over Jack who has an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. Mac gets out of the way, finding a seat to buckle into that’s well away from the doors. 

He closes his eyes — mostly just to avoid looking down — and tries to wrap his head around how delicately each person is tethered to this existence called “life.” It makes Mac question many things, not the least of which is why he and Jack risk themselves like this day in and day out.

At the hospital, they unload, doctors and nurses rushing alongside Jack. Mac gets out and heads in at his own pace, already knowing that he won’t be allowed back with Jack.

“Hey, MacGyver!” one of the medics calls.

Mac turns back covering his eyes as the last of the rotor downwash kicks up dust from the roof. 

“You saved him out there,” the medic says. “It’s tough doing something like that the first time, I can’t imagine doing it to a buddy.” He claps Mac on the shoulder and smiles. “You oughta be proud of yourself.”

Mac nods and smiles weakly, unsure of what to say in response. But as he walks down the corridor towards the ER, Mac realizes that flimsy latex catheters and kevlar vests aren’t all that stands between life and death. It’s people.

They do so much work for the Phoenix that saves lives, but most of those lives aren’t ones that Mac sees. Mac sees the dead bodies and the casualty reports. No one hands him reports on how many people didn’t die because he defused a bomb or stopped a speeding train. He pauses, looking out a window. It’s always easy to lose perspective — it happens to all of them sometimes. And even if life is as fragile as it felt while Mac slid a four inch needle into Jack’s chest, maybe it’s that much more important that Mac keeps doing the work. Someone has to be there and it might as well be him.


End file.
